


Like The Way You're Working Me Out

by andlightplay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coitus Interruptus, M/M, Oblivious Sam, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 02:50:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andlightplay/pseuds/andlightplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Bathrooms always amplify sound, so even with the water pounding down past his ears Dean still hears that rustle of wings.</i>
</p><p>Originally <a href="http://andlightplay.livejournal.com/39063.html">posted on LJ</a> 10/10/11.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like The Way You're Working Me Out

**Author's Note:**

> _"Let's get a little wet,_  
>  _I like the way you’re workin’ me out"_  
>  \- "Wet", Nicole Scherzinger

Bathrooms always amplify sound, so even with the water pounding down past his ears Dean still hears that rustle of wings.

“ _Cas_?” he says, startled, eyes snapping open, and finds the angel watching him from his usual foot or so away, looking extra mournful with the water flattening his hair to his head and drenching his clothes. “Dude, Sam’s right through there!” he hisses, trying to keep as quiet as possible because hello, amplification. “And you’re meant to take your clothes off _before_ you get in the shower, jesus.” 

“Jesus was baptized fully clothed,” Cas says absently, already crowding in closer with a squeak of shoes on the bathtub floor, and Dean darts a glance at the closed door through the shower curtain then gives it up as lost cause. It’s not like arguing with Cas usually gets him very far anyway.

“At least take the shoes off before you fall on your ass and Sam comes crashing in thinking I’m being attacked in the shower again,” Dean orders, already shoving his hands underneath both coat and jacket, and abruptly they’re gone and Cas is barefoot and in just his shirt and pants. “No, _all_ your clothes-”

“Dean,” Cas says, low and final, and then Dean’s got wet, body-warm fabric plastered against his front and slick tiles at his back and yeah, okay, so he’s been half-hard since he heard Cas’s wings, Pavlovian and inevitable. It’s not like he’s never got off in the shower before. Sam can just deal with the wait.

One of Cas’s hands is on his flank, the other cupping the curve of his skull, and his mouth is warm from the water and tastes faintly metallic. And okay, so soaked fabric feels pretty good on his cock, lacking the usual dry friction, and he kind of likes that he can grab a cool, wet fistful of Cas’s shirt and feel his skin hot beneath it. It sticks to Cas’s body, makes slick and vaguely obscene sounds when Dean slides his hands down his back, pulls him in closer, and then Cas’s hand is on his hip and urging him to turn round, and suddenly it’s like Cas has been fingering him for ages and he’s fucking desperate for it, _needs_ Cas inside him nownownow, and on some level he knows it’s like bad porn but ever since Cas learned to use his mojo for evil like this he can play Dean like a fucking violin. He’s grabbing blindly for Cas behind him, fingers searching for any hint of wet clothing, and for a moment he thinks Cas isn’t there, has gone and left him like this, begging like a two-dollar whore, because he’s been called back to the battlefront or whatever, and is halfway turned round when Cas settles against him, a line of heat against his spine.

Cas’s fingers are water-slick and cool when they press against his lips, and Dean throws any remaining shreds of restraint to the wind and bites down on two of the lower joints as Cas slides into him, as easy as if they’ve been working up to this for hours rather than five minutes. He feels Cas’s fingertips twitch against his cheek faintly, but most of his brain is busy luxuriating in the delicious sensation of Cas’s cock thick and hot and right where he wants it, Cas flush against him and wrapping his free arm around Dean’s waist, holding him still. He doesn’t move though, just kind of rolls his hips in little tiny thrusts that set off little sparks of pleasure at the base of Dean’s spine but aren’t gonna get him off any time soon.

He bites down pointedly in lieu of ordering Cas to _fucking do something, you bastard_ , and Cas’s fingers twist free of his teeth and press into his mouth, flattening over his tongue and clearly telling him to shut up. Fine then. Dean braces both arms against the wall and shoves back, flutters the muscles around Cas’s dick, and Cas makes a low, feral noise in his ear and shifts his weight, the message finally getting through-

Sam bangs on the door. “Dean! Don’t use all the hot water man, some of us still have to shower, remember!”

Cas fingers slip out of his mouth, though they linger at his throat, spread across his collarbone. Dean also pretty sure that’s a smile pressed against the skin of his shoulder.

“Jesus Sam, can’t a man shower in peace?” he calls back, forcing his voice steady. Cas nips at the pink outline of his scar, still more sensitive than the rest of Dean’s skin, and he swallows the noise he wants to make and grinds backwards in retaliation. 

“Not when he’s hogging all the hot water!” Sam answers cheerfully. “C’mon dude, before I pull the fire alarm and you have to stand outside in a towel for two hours while they check the place over.”

“Okay okay, gimme five minutes!”

Sam grumbles but doesn’t say anything else, and Dean is tempted to bang his head against the wall. He settles for arching back against Cas instead, and Cas drags his teeth over the outline of his fingertips in response, muffling Dean’s curse with his fingers again. 

Sam’s little time limit seems to have done the trick though, and Cas starts fucking him earnest, the arm around Dean’s waist pulling him back into every thrust. Dean pushes back into it too, frees one hand to jack himself off cause they’re on the clock here, and fuck but it feels good, the hot throb of his cock and the deeper, electric flares of sensation every time Cas rolls his hips forward that send pleasure spiking up his spine, a little higher each time. He leans back into Cas, lets him take most of his weight and sucks at his fingers, curling his tongue around and between them and closing his eyes, so close now, orgasm coiling in his stomach and drawing tighter, tighter as he spreads his legs further apart, lets Cas really go for it-

“DEAN! _Seriously_!”

It’s like the shower’s just run ice cold. Dean actually whimpers a little around Cas fingers, but they can’t keep doing while his brother (his fucking horrible, cock-blocking _bastard_ of a brother) is talking to him. Cas is breathing roughly, face buried in Dean’s neck.

“Jesus _fuck_ , Sam-”

“I gave you an extra five minutes, Dean. Now c’mon, out, before I come in there and drag you.”

“Sam, I’m _naked_ , what the fuck is with you today?”

“I need to pee,” Sam says bluntly. “And if you’re not out in the next two minutes I’ll do it in your bed.”

Cas huffs against his skin. Dean closes his eyes. “Alright, fuck, I’m-” he can’t bring himself to say ‘coming’. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Cas pulls out and Dean hates everything in the world and shuts off the water (which does feel distinctly cool, fuck). He grabs his towel and turns to Cas, mouthing rather than talking because Sam will hear and then they’ll really be screwed. _Now what? Can you miracle the water hot again? Can you mojo my dick into not being blue-balled to all fuck? And for god’s sake don’t be here when I open the door_. Cas, apparently unperturbed, merely raises his eyebrows and vanishes. Dean curses him and Sam out as loud as he can in his head and gathers his clothes up into one big crotch-shielding lump, then opens the door.

Sam, fortunately, just bitchfaces at him and shoves on past, slamming the door behind him. Dean throws his clothes in the vague direction of his bed and collapses onto it, wrapping his hand back around his dick and feeling his freakin’ _toes curl_ from how close he is-

-and then Cas’s hand hauls it away again and is pulling him up and backing him up against the wall. Dean sinks both hands into his hair and kisses him, filthy and wet and trying to rub off against his stomach because he’s _finally_ , gloriously as naked as Dean, and Cas, freak that he is, just reaches down, grabs Dean’s ass and fucking _lifts_ him like he’s some waif of a chick. Dean almost pulls away to boggle at him, but then Cas’s dick is nudging at him, slick and hot, and he’s sliding back inside, and Dean has to concentrate on not moaning like a porn star as all his nerves light up like Christmas.

There’s no tease here, just Cas snapping his hips as easily as if they were flat on the bed and Dean shoving himself down to meet them and trying to stifle his embarrassingly needy little noises. Cas finally angles forward and catches his mouth - it’s less a kiss than a way to keep him quiet, but it works so whatever. Cas is panting now, breath hot against Dean’s lips, fingers biting into Dean’s thighs, and Dean feels like his very bones are humming, whole body strung tight, tight, dick leaving wet smears on Cas’s skin, and if he could just, just get more than those glancing brushes-

Cas comes with a stuttered breath, like it’s been punched out of him, and Dean can feel it, a sudden rush of heat. Cas pins him in place like it’s nothing as he rides out the aftershocks, then pulls out, sets Dean back on his feet and folds down to his knees in pretty much one smooth movement. Dean slams his eyes shut, prays that the rushing he can hear is the shower and not just his own frantic heartbeat, and feels his whole body shudder as Cas sucks at the head of his dick and shoves three fingers back up between his legs.

He can feel his thighs shaking, Cas hand on his hip practically the only thing keeping him upright as Cas hums and presses his tongue to the slit. Dean wraps both hands in Cas’s hair and bucks into his mouth, head thunking against the wall, and Cas slides down another inch or so and laps at the head, twists his fingers upwards, and Dean just about remembers to muffle his shout as he comes caught between the two sensations.

He goes slithering down the wall, after, and Cas regards him with a certain amount of smugness, still kneeling all innocently in front him. “Guess you holy mojo’d the water, huh?”

“Yes,” Cas says, amusement bubbling under the words. 

“And now ‘m all sweaty again. Need to have another shower.”

Cas is definitely amused now, mouth quirking and eyes crinkled. “Forgive me if I don’t join you in this one, Dean.”

“What was all that about, anyway?” Dean asks, propping himself up against the wall. 

Cas shrugs, something he still hasn’t quite mastered, shoulders moving slightly independently of each other. “I've had what I believe you would term a ‘bad day’.”

“Well, count me in any time you wanna blow off any more steam, but can you maybe send Sam to Hawaii or something first?”

“I don’t imagine he would enjoy that very much.”

“Pssh,” Dean says, forcing himself back onto his feet; Sam won’t be in the shower forever. Cas stands with him, like one of those sped-up films of trees growing. “Everyone there walks around in bikinis and everything’s a beach - what’s not to like?”

There’s a flapping sound, heavier and more substantial than Cas’s wings, and he’s fully clothed again. Dean flips him off and Cas huffs his little not-laugh. Dean fishes out some clean underwear and pulls it on, then casts around for his jeans. The bathroom door rattles open and Sam wanders in, shirtless and scrubbing at his hair, just as Dean spots his jeans under the bed. Behind him, the whoosh of displaced air tells him Cas has disappeared, but fingertips linger in the small of his back and he’s suddenly as clean as Sam. He hooks his fingers in his jeans and drags them out, yanks them on and immediately goes in search of his t-shirt so Sam won’t ask why he’s grinning.


End file.
